A Whisper In The Breeze
by AstrophobicChick
Summary: From Greg's POV. From the aftermath of Sherlock's 'death' to the reunion three years later. Greg finds it hard to cope with Sherlock's death. He blames himself for not believing in his friend and tries to find any means of escape. Contains drugs/SelfHarm/Suicide. Sherstrade/AsFriends. Dark. AU.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Greg found out about the fall an hour after it had happened. In the time it took Donovan to explain, he felt as though his heart had stopped, or as though time itself had ceased to exist. The same two words replayed over and over in his head. _He Jumped. He Jumped. _It almost seemed like a dream, one of those crazy dreams that you just can't wake up from. He pinched himself, slapped himself, threw water at himself yet still wouldn't wake up. He even called in another officer to confirm the facts, which they did before leaving hastily, as though they were afraid to be in his presence.

Guilt rose up inside him and he ran over to the window, shoving it open and letting the cool air flow in, calming his body a little. _This is my fault. I arrested him. I pushed him too far. If it wasn't for me he'd still be…. _He slammed the window shut and turned around, motioning for Donovan to come closer.

'I want to see him. I _need _to see him'

She nodded once and grabbed his coat, pushing it into his arms, 'He's at St. Bart's. I'll drive us there.'

He pulled his coat on, checked that his phone was in his pocket and followed her out to the car. It was starting to rain and he could hear thunder in the distance. It was as though a blanket of grief was dropped over London. No one was smiling. No one was happy. Everyone dodged out of his way, even Anderson didn't have a smart remark to make about Sherlock's death. No one bothered him and as he got into the car and slumped down in his seat, he half wished that they would. He needed to vent, he needed to get rid of all the negative energy and guilt that was clawing at his insides.

As Donovan drove them to the hospital he let his thoughts take over. He remembered the last time he saw Sherlock, the night that he was arrested, and could remember how stressed he looked. No one else would have noticed it, but after five years of knowing Sherlock, knowing how well he hid all his emotion, Greg knew the signs. He knew the signs yet ignored them, more concerned about losing his job than caring for his friend.

'Sir, we're here.'

He snapped out of his thoughts, pushed them into the back of his mind and opened the car door, taking a deep breath and bracing himself for whatever was in store. He could do this. He _had _to do this. Stepping out of the car he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Donovan inside. He hated being at the Morgue, it always smelt funny and gave him weird chills. The corridors were too white, the floors too shiny and the sounds that echoed around the rooms were too eerie.

Molly was there which shocked him a little. He hadn't seen her for weeks, and even she looked different. Almost as though she knew something he didn't. He let it slip though as soon as he saw Sherlock lying on the table. This was Sherlock, his brilliant little consulting detective and friend, the one person who truly knew Greg, this was him, dead. He swallowed thickly and stepped closer.

Sherlock's eyes were closed. Blood covered his face and trickled into his famous curls. Even his scarf had blood stains and Greg felt himself balk a bit at the sight of it all. Sherlock shouldn't be here. He was barely 35 and was never _ever _suicidal. Even in his drug days. Seeing him lying there, unmoving and cold brought everything into a harsh reality. He really was dead. Gone.

Feeling his eyes well up, he turned towards Molly, 'What happened?'

'He erm… He fell.' She sniffed and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. 'John's in the toilets. I think he's still being sick.'

He didn't even think about John until then and as he saw him walk through the door he felt himself getting angry again. The guilt and negative thoughts made his adrenaline spike and he rounded on the Doctor, his eyes narrowed.

'What happened? You were meant to be his friend, you were meant to be looking after him!'

John stopped in his tracks and looked up, alarmed at Greg's tone of voice. 'I tried, I did, I tried to keep him safe. I didn't know he was going to do _this.'_

'You're his _doctor_,' he spat the word out, 'Yet you let him jump off a fucking building!'

Molly stepped forward, placing a delicate hand on Greg's arm. 'This isn't the time or place to be blaming anyone. We are _all _devastated by this. Stop.'

'You're one to talk,' John said, clenching his fists, 'You had him arrested! You had the whole of London out after him that night. Some friend _you _are.'

Greg lunged forward and shoved John hard, causing him to stumble backwards into the wall. 'Don't… Just _don't.' _

'Enough!' Donovan grabbed Greg's arm and pulled him away. 'Sir, this isn't helping. I understand that you're angry, but this is just making things worse. Fre-Sherlock wouldn't want you both to argue would he?'

'You're right, he wouldn't.'

He sighed and pulled out of her grip, walking back over to where Sherlock lay, running his eyes over his body. 'I'm sorry, I failed you. I didn't know how bad it was.'

John shuffled over to him, keeping out of arms reach, and murmured, 'You didn't fail him. Moriarty was too smart. But - But Sherlock did say something before he fell.'

Greg's head snapped up and he looked over at the doctor and swallowed, 'What did he say?'

'He said -' He broke off and took a deep breath, 'He said that he really was a fake. That he made Moriarty up and that it was all lies.'

'No.' Greg shook his head slowly, his eyes now back on Sherlock, 'I've known him for over five years. He's _always _been like this. He's not a fraud.'

'I know that he's real. I've never doubted him. Never.'

The Morgue fell into silence again. Everyone was shocked, Greg could see that. Even Donovan looked uneasy here and she didn't even _like _him. He didn't know how he was going to cope anymore. First the failed marriage and now losing one of his closest friends, it seemed as though the whole world had turned against him.


End file.
